My One Good Leg
by The Last Letter
Summary: His best mate would do anything for him, he was sure of it. That kind of loyalty did not come free on the day to day but, to Harry and Ron, there was never a price. A series of drabbles, focused on the friendship of Harry and Ron.
1. Ginny & The Cloud Gazers

Ginny keeps finding Harry and Ron lying on the lawn of The Burrow, their heads next to one another, staring up at the clouds going by. The first time she saw it, the June after the war, she stood in her window and just watched them. They weren't doing anything at all and, after not long had passed, she finds herself bored with it. If they're going to be strange, they can at least be strange _and _interesting! Fred and George are always good at that.

_Were _always good at that.

Ginny steps onto the stairwell, casting a longing look toward the bedroom door that once belonged to twins and she goes down the stairs. Hermione is sitting with Molly and they're discussing the possibility of going back to school in the fall. Hermione says Harry and Ron will never do it; Molly agrees. Determined not to be distracted by the fact that she might have to be dormmates with Hermione, Ginny asks for her for a moment and they stand at the window together, looking out at Harry and Ron.

"What do I know?" Hermione finally says.

"Loads," Ginny replies. "Mum says they'd be dead if not for you."

Hermione looks pleased with herself for a moment but admits, "I'd be dead if it weren't for them too. Honestly, I know where they are and that's enough for me."

Ginny thinks it's just odd enough to not look away from but Hermione returns to the kitchen table.

Harry and Ron return to the house not long after. Ginny almost asks but then something stops her – some deep instinct that takes her off guard. Ginny hasn't been afraid to open her mouth in years, particularly not when it came to mouthing off to brothers. She sits in Harry's lap, something she is sure wouldn't have happened in front of her mother had they not just fought in a war, and tries not to think about it. People were allowed to be on their own front lawns and The Burrow was essentially Harry's home now.

The next time Ginny catches them, back in the same position, she has just touched down from a broom ride, throwing the Quaffle around to herself. She had wanted a moment alone and had enjoyed it as much as she had been hoping. Ron and Harry are talking. Growing up, Ginny has learnt that, sometimes, being nosy was the only way to know things and she hid so that she could listen.

"Harry, you've gone mad."

"I've not! Look at it – it's _clearly _a Hippogriff."

"If that's a Hippogriff then Charlie's a dragon!"

"Well, do you remember what your Mum was like the morning we arrived in the flying car?"

They laugh and then Ron points upward. "That one, there. It looks like Hagrid."

"I do see the beard."

Ginny goes to put her broom away. Harry and Ron were cloud watching? But why? She reports this to her mother, who smiles in the way that implies if only Ginny were a little older, she would understand entirely.

"Don't worry about it, dear."

Ginny isn't worried at all. She's merely confused. Never, in all of her life, has she known Ron and Harry to _cloud _watch. An assortment of other things, of course. They might be losing their minds!

She tries it herself, one day, lying down on the ground and staring up at the sky. The grass is comforting, the sun bright in her eyes, and Ginny doesn't end up thinking of clouds but of Quidditch and of how blinding that light could be if she were trying to keep her eyes on the other team. It's slightly enjoyable but not overly so. She wouldn't do it more than once. Maybe it's because she's on her own although she doubted that second person could make that much of a difference.

It's the third time she spots them out the windows of The Burrows that she intentionally sneaks up on them, thinking that this time, without a doubt, that she will unlock the secret. They're lying in the same position, ears together, hands folded over their stomachs.

"That one looks like a Quaffle," Ron declares.

"A Quaffle is just a ball, Ron."

"Yeah, that means I'm right, though."

They are quiet for a moment and Ginny thinks that's the end of it. She takes a step forward, determined to ask what they are doing, when Harry says something that makes her shrink back again.

"I've been thinking about it a lot – that first train ride. What if I had sat in a different compartment? Or been put in Slytherin? Imagine how different things could have been."

"I think about that too," Ron admits. "More since … you know, the battle. What we could have done different, what we could have saved. I shouldn't have left you, Harry."

"You came back," Harry says, his voice full of forgiveness. "I know that the past can't be changed –"

"Time turners," Ron says. "Although, we might just make it worse. What has ever worked out for us?"

"I sat in the right compartment."

Ginny watches Ron's ears go bright pink, visibly from even the distance she was at and thinks that it's not at all like Harry to be that sappy.

"You know, Harry, I thought you were dead. And then, you weren't, not really, and after that, I looked at Fred, and I thought: he's not really dead, either. I wanted to believe that he'd get up."

"Collin Creevey."

"Remus."

They go back and forth, listing the dead. Somewhere around Crabbe, Ron also adds, "That cloud looks like a crab."

"Probably reporting us to Draco now."

They laugh together and then Ron says, "Tonks."

Ginny backs away from the two of them, her heart in her throat, deciding to leave them be. That night, though, Harry is kissing her in the garden while they're simultaneously pushing away curious gnomes, and Ginny admits what she heard and that she had been watching them.

"I thought you were both going mad."

"We might be," Harry says. "It's peaceful. And, I love you, and I love Hermione –"

"In different ways, though?" Ginny teases.

"Yes," Harry assures her. "But, you're not Ron."

"I can cut my hair, give it a good shot."

Harry kisses her again and then says seriously, "He's my best mate. It's different. And, sometimes, we wake up from seeing all of those horrible things and just lying there talking about clouds and then talking about school or winter holidays or Quidditch makes it not as terrible. It makes it feel normal again."

Ginny understands her mother's look a little better now. She thinks of the things that she keeps to herself, the things that she only shares with Harry, and the things she only shares with other friends. She closes her eyes and rests her head against his shoulder for a moment, thinking of the day she had lay in the sun herself. It feels more peaceful to think of it as not cloud watching but as being with a best friend and Ginny is suddenly very sorry, feeling as if she was intruding on something very sacred. She looks at him but Harry won't look at her, instead studying the garden fence. She could say something now but it would just keep causing him to look to the side.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You do like me more than Ron, don't you?"

Harry looks at her again. "I love you more than Ron."

"That's not the same!"

"It's not," Harry agrees.

Ron sticks his head out the door. "Ginny! Harry! Mum says it's getting dark!" He looks over his shoulder. "Mum, I'm not saying that!"

Molly herself appears and shoes them both out of the garden.

"No grandchildren from you yet, Ginevra."

"Mum, if you must know, Harry was just confessing his love for Ron. They're getting together and Hermione and I are going to go drink our woes away with loads of Firewhiskey."

Her words hardly seem to phase Molly, who has raised too many children to be distracted by such a simple thing.

"Well, Harry and Ron won't give me grandchildren this young."

Harry and Ron can't look at each other anymore but they all go to bed laughing.

The next morning, when Ginny wakes up, she looks out her window and there's Harry and Ron on the lawn, sitting this time, mugs in their hands. Ginny can only imagine what they're saying and she lets the curtain fall shut again.

Some things, she knows, are between a boy and his best friend.

**I'm rereading **_**Harry Potter **_**for the first time in years and I've been overwhelmed by the beauty of Ron's and Harry's friendship and I wanted to do a bit of a study from the outside looking in on two best friends who care about one another that much.**

**But, also, I've had a bit to drink and might wake up to find it's garbage but I thought, since it was just a fun, short exercise, it was worth sharing.**

**~TLL~**


	2. A Wedding Gift

The night before Ronald Weasley's wedding was likely more of a fanfare than anyone would have expected, least of all him. His brothers all showed up in full force, even though there were children from several of them by now, and his father passed out bottles of Firewhiskey as though it were water. George drank more than anyone, saying that he had to drink for two now – he patted his stomach as though he were pregnant and made a joke of it, but they still all raised their glasses in a moment of silence. His mother and Ginny were with Hermione, although Ginny sent a note warning him to take a shot for her – girls' nights were something that his sister would likely never be good with.

Harry sat by his side the whole night through, joining in on the joking and teasing, even slipping in half a story or two that made Arthur blanche slightly but that Molly never would have forgiven had she heard what they were up to during their years at Hogwarts. Ron didn't even mind the fact that he was the result of ribbing for most of the evening. He was get married in the morning to Hermione Granger –

"I mean, he was the reason she was even in the bathroom," Harry said. "What would you have done if that troll had ate her, Ron?"

"Trolls don't eat people," Ron said, while George nearly fell over.

"We're just proud our Ron is getting married at all." Bill ruffled his hair. "At this point, even Ginny will be married before Charlie is."

They all tried very hard not to look at Harry but, luckily, Charlie cleared his throat.

"Married to the work, Bill. Besides, what am I supposed to do if my wife got eaten by a dragon?"

"Well, presumably someone with a high enough IQ to marry you would know not to be eaten by a dragon," Percy said with his usual pompous air but he was askew on the couch, using George for more support than he was his own spine.

George just waved his hand dismissively. "Marry a dragon, Charlie, problem solved. You get to be married to the work and you've got a wife to get Mum off your back."

Arthur, in particular, seemed to find this hilarious, although Ron would reckon that his father had one to many glasses of drink.

Percy started putting them to bed not long after midnight, citing that wedding preparations would start very early and they would thank him tomorrow. George, who was one of the last to go, muttered, "have I ever thanked him?"

Harry and Ron laughed. Percy hadn't bothered either of them, leaving them sprawled across the couch cushions. Percy's steps went upward for the last time and they knew they would be alone, even once they decided to go to bed themselves. The Weasley men had the run of The Burrow tonight – Hermione's friends and bridal party joining her at her parents' house, likely overwhelming the unsuspecting muggles. Ron faced Harry, who just shook his head.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Almost can't believe it and, yet, I don't think I could believe anything else either." Harry grinned cheekily. "You and Hermione."

"Should have let her be eaten by the troll," Ron muttered and Harry laughed. "Of course, who else would have married me?"

"You'd've found someone else," Harry reasoned. "Would I have liked her as well? I dunno."

Ron finished off his last Firewhiskey, eyeing the bottle his brothers and father had left behind; it was half full and a very tempting sight.

"Should we have one more drink, Harry?"

"Actually, hold on, Ron, I've got you something."

"You didn't have to –" Ron began to protest but Harry was gone, going up to where he had left his bag. Ron was left alone for only a moment or two, but he eyed the bottle of Firewhiskey the whole time, thinking to himself that one more drink was what a man on his last single night deserved, though, he was looking forward to not being a single man any longer. Hermione had made it clear for too long that if he were to love her, he would support the fact that she had dreams beyond that of being a married housewife. Ron didn't think he could keep Hermione in the house, even if he had wanted to, and he didn't want to. He loved watching her as she studied the law, as she tucked her wand into her curly hair to hold it all up, her quill scribbling along a page as yet another new idea occurred to her … Finally, he had said to her, I don't want a housewife, but I love you, and you can be the Minister of Magic and my wife. She had kissed him, told him to get a ring, and returned to her books. Ron had said _bloody hell _to himself but had gone to get a ring.

The look on Hermione's face when he had told her she'd had dirt on her nose and then made a ring appear in his fingers – a deceptive muggle magic trick taught to him by George – was on his mind when Harry hurried down the stairs once more.

"Ron –"

"You really don't have to, Harry."

Harry Potter was his best friend, what else could Ron need?

"No," Harry said firmly, sitting in front of him, "I do."

Harry put a bottle of aged Ogden's Old Firewhiskey on the table in front of Ron.

"I was looking through my parents vault – not just the money, but everything the old Potters had thought to put away."

Ron nodded. He knew all of this, though, for once, he had not been included. Ginny was, though. Harry had taken pity, given Ron was practically planning a wedding on his own, given Hermione's schedule, and had only sent him periodic updates of interesting finds, occasionally showing up to Ron's new home when he had found something that had made him emotional.

"I also found this." Harry set a silver goblet on the table next to the whiskey. "According to everything I found, Sirius gave this to my parents on their wedding day. A proper wedding gift, to toast their new life."

Ron picked up the goblet and then glanced at his friend. "Harry, I can't take this."

"My parents' best friend gave this to them, it's only right I give it to you. I know you and Hermione started when you made fun of her on the train –" Ron gave out a small noise from the back of his throat – "but I want you to have a good beginning to married life. I couldn't have made it without you two and I want to give you everything I can."

Harry stared at the floor and Ron stared at the goblet. It wasn't anything particularly special – no gems or jewels, particular charms that he could sense, or anything noteworthy about it other than it being a well-made, pretty, silver goblet – but Ron never wanted to put it down.

"Thanks, Harry."

Harry smiled, though he was still looking to the fire. "I figure, as best man, I need to outdo everyone."

Ron thought, without any bitterness, that he was _Harry Potter _and there was no need to even try to outdo anyone.

"Who else would be my best man?"

Harry finally glanced at him, green eyes bright, but Ron knew they were both remembering their early years, so long ago, on the Hogwarts Express, or entrapped in Devil's Snare. How little and how much they had known then.

"Should we try this Ogden's?" Harry offered. "I also found it in the vault."

Ron finally inspected the bottle, which had paled in comparison of the cup.

"Harry! This whiskey is from 1925! This might be one of the first Ogden's!"

"So?" Harry said, shrugging, as though this importance meant nothing to him and, not for the first time in his life, Ron wanted to roll his eyes over the muggle heritage that bombarded Harry and Hermione in their daily lives. "My best mate deserves the best."

Maybe it wasn't muggle ignorance, Ron considered, looking at the bottle and blinking rapidly. Harry knew what he was doing and he had decided that Ron was worthy enough.

"A drink for the two of us."

"Don't you want it in the goblet?" Harry asked.

"I will take my first drink as a married man from it," Ron vowed, "but, I don't want to jinx it for them."

Ron and Harry smiled at one another, before clinking their chipped mugs from The Burrow Cupboard together, and Ron sipped at their aged Firewhiskey. Wizards his age might have older Whiskeys, better whiskeys, but, Ron was sure, they had never shared it with a mate like the one that he had, sitting on the couch across from him.

"Happy marriage, Ron," Harry said, raising his glass once more. "May you and Hermione find happiness and no more trolls."

"You've been bringing that up enough," Ron said, "is that part of your speech?"

Harry laughed, a little too loudly in Ron's opinion. "You'll find out tomorrow."

Yes, Ron supposed he would, but, for now, he was enjoying a priceless Firewhiskey on his cozy couch with his best mate. Between the present and the rapidly occurring future, Ron knew he could ask for no more.

**So, I'm on a roll. Maybe this will become a reoccurring series. I just have a deep appreciation for how the friendships in the books were written and the older I get, the more I appreciate how Ron and Harry loved one another and just how amazing that all is.**

**~TLL~**

**(still drunk)**


	3. Funny Friends

"And _that," _Sirius Black said with the flourish of someone who knew better, "is Ronald Weasley. That's Harry's best friend."

James Potter squinted. The boy was gawky, undeniably a ginger with freckles and bright red hair, but also, James noted, sporting a determined look despite his white face as he looked at himself wearing Qudditch robes.

"Ronald Weasley," James said to himself and, then to Sirius, "Did you know him at all?"

"I think you'd find he'd remind you of me."

James glanced at Sirius, trying not to look too alarmed. Despite the years that had passed, meeting Sirius would always feel just like yesterday. A nervous Pureblood with a Slytherin last name, sulking by himself from the rest of the Purebloods, resentful of the disruption, had looked up as James Potter had blundered into his compartment.

"His parents –"

"The good sort, not like mine," Sirius said quickly. "The love, the loyalty, the not feeling like quite enough … It's all there." Sirius' lips quivered. "Ron slept with Peter in his bed for years."

It wasn't really funny. Peter Pettigrew was alive while James and Sirius were dead but, they had to get their kicks where they came, and this one made James snort.

"Peter," he said. James shook his head and Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"You'd like Ron," Sirius said so they don't get lost thinking about worse things. "First time I met him, I accidentally broke his leg. He thought I was a murderer trying to kill Harry. He stood in front of me and told me I'd have to go through him first."

James is staring at the boy with interest. "I've been able to see him next to Harry for years but never on his own until you get here, which just confirms my theory that you can only spy on people you've actually met. What's he like, Sirius, really? Is he funny? It's important for best friends to be funny. I wish I could have told him that."

"They're always laughing," Sirius said. "Loads of trouble. That Hermione, though, the other one –"

"_Giant _hair!" James said. "Absolutely massive. If I were Harry, I'd be hiding things in it and seeing how long it takes her to notice."

"She'd hex you so badly you wouldn't even know your own name," Sirius said. "Oh! You'll never believe what Harry told me about her."

James said, "I've been hexed before. Lily was so in love with me in fourth year that she just couldn't resist."

Sirius rolled his eyes but clearly couldn't wait to share the information and he blurted out, "Hermione set Snape on fire!"

James laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes, wishing that he could have been there to see it. But, he was distracted, as Ron was now on the move, heading out to join his gathered Quidditch team. Harry was there and he quickly stepped to Ron's side. James and Sirius weren't allowed to hear what the two were saying, something that always made it hard for Lily when she was watching their son. They were both desperate to know what his voice sounded like, the words that he used. James didn't need to hear the words this time, though, that they were saying.

Harry's expression was serious; Ron now looked a little queasy. Harry's hand rested on Ron's shoulder, though Ron was quite a bit taller than Harry. James could remember doing that often, particularly with Remus shortly after his transformations. It's the _you're all right there, mate _talk. The _don't you worry, it'll all be fine_. The _even if it's not fine, we can make it so _talk. Remus would be grumpy about it although the feelings of guilt that he didn't deserve friends had faded and he took the mug of hot chocolate that Sirius always offered without fail while Peter ran about with a blanket in his hands, trying to see if Remus would want it.

Ron looked better and they walked out to the pitch together. The whistle must have blown as they all kicked off. Before zooming to their positions, James spotted Harry and Ron nodding at one another. They would be where the other expected; they would not let one another down.

James let the picture fall away.

"You don't want to watch the match?"

"They're not playing Slytherin," James said. "It won't be an interesting match."

He was looking at his own best friend, thinking of the smell of the Quidditch pitch, the thrill of the win, and how good the meal after the match always tasted.

"Besides, he's the best Seeker Gryffindor has ever had," James boasted. "You saw him play – _really _saw him."

It was different, watching it from where James was. There was no smell of grass, no commentary, no roar from the crowd.

"And when you've got friends on the same team, there's no way you can lose. They know each other so well that it's like mind-reading."

Sirius and James exchanged a look, not unlike the one that Harry and Ron had shared on the Quidditch pitch, and started off.

"Figure we'll find trouble first or will trouble find us?"

"No idea. Let's find out."

It was a beautiful day around them, not unlike the one that Harry was experiencing on the Quidditch pitch. James stayed in step with Sirius and felt contented that Harry was going to win his game and he and his best friend Ronald Weasley were going to be safe that night, in the same common room with James had been sheltered in with his friends. They would sit in front of the same fireplace, joined by the Hermione Granger that James now had much more respect for, and it was all James wanted for his son and the advice that he wished he could have impressed upon him.

_Choose your best friends carefully – they are what matters most in life_.

James did like to think that he thought about it enough that Harry understood it, instinctively, somehow, and that he had managed to reach Harry despite all that separated him because, after all, it seemed as though Harry had picked a very good best mate indeed.

**Not sure where this was heading originally but I like the idea of James watching Harry and wanting to know more about his friends.**

**~TLL~**


	4. Weasley VS The Fellytone

Ronald Weasley inspected the fellytone from top to bottom before he even considered touching it at all. The whole concept of it seemed particularly untrustworthy to him and even seemed to go against what his father had impressed upon Ron and his siblings: Don't trust something that can think for itself unless you can see where it keeps its brain. It was a muggle invention which meant it wasn't dark magic. Probably. Ron hoped not. Still, he didn't even begin to understand how a fellytone worked. How was it sure to reach the right person if it couldn't think? Owls could think and were trained through magic and Ron knew where owls kept their brains.

"Dad," Ron said finally, "how does the fellytone work?"

He felt very out of his element and would have liked nothing more than to not use the fellytone at all. Muggles were a strange breed; sometimes, with the things his father told him and showed him, Ron found it hard to believe that wizards and muggles were even from the same species. Ron was not the type to admit that he was afraid or intimidated, however. Growing up with a load of older brothers had given him a solid spine and the knowledge that showing fear meant that he would be eaten fast. But, already in his short life, Ron had survived a life-sized game of wizard's chest, flying full throttle into the Whomping Willow, and a den full of spiders that were bigger than horses! Odds were he could conquer a fellytone with little effort. After all, young muggles seemed quite adept at it.

More than that, though, Harry had given Ron his fellytone number and Harry was expecting him to call. They had written letters back and forth so far this summer and Harry had informed him that his summer with the Dursleys was going typically. Ron didn't like hearing that – he knew what typical summers at the Dursleys were like – and it took the flavour out of his own holiday, knowing that Harry wasn't having any fun. Ron knew it was only fair that he call on Harry the muggle way since Harry used the wizarding way so often.

"This is a public fellytone so we must insert the proper muggle coin here." Arthur pointed at a slot in the box that the fellytone was hanging on. "Have you got Harry's number?"

Ron pulled the paper Harry had written the number on out of his pocket.

"Pick up the fellytone," Arthur instructed.

Ron did, a knot of nerves deep in his belly. If it was dark magic, he would find out soon enough.

"Hold it to your ear. Do you hear anything?"

Arthur sounded a little breathless with excitement, as he normally did around muggle things.

Ron pressed the fellytone to his ear firmly. "No."

"Try the other end."

Ron flipped the fellytone around and pressed it to his ear again, hearing a long, low, droning noise. "Yes! I hear it. Harry? Harry, are you there?"

"The number, Ron, we can't forget that!" Arthur put the coin in the fellytone slot. "Push the numbers now."

Ron's fingers were trembling but he pushed the numbers very quickly. He didn't know how smart the fellytone was; what if it forgot the number he'd put it at the very start and he didn't end up reaching Harry at all? The fellytone did beep every time he pushed a number as a small assurance that it understand what Ron was trying to tell it. He pushed the last number and glanced at his father, who grinned enthusiastically and gave him a thumbs up. Looking at Arthur, Ron felt even more nervous. The phone was making a different droning noise. Then, it paused. Then, it made the same noise again.

Ron's palms began to sweat.

"Vernon Dursley speaking."

The Dursleys! He had done it! And Vernon sounded so close, even though he was so far away. Ron cleared his throat. He had to make sure he was heard.

"HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I – WANT – TO – TALK – TO – HARRY – POTTER!"

Vernon had to have heard that, Ron was sure, and, for a moment, he was very proud of himself. He had successfully figured out a fellytone. Harry was sure to be impressed too, although Hermione would like say something about how wizards should not be so confused about muggles – the type of thing that Arthur would wholeheartedly agree with.

"WHO IS THIS? WHO ARE YOU?"

"RON – WEASLEY!" Ron explained, pleased that it had worked and Vernon could hear him too. "I'M – A – FRIEND – OF – HARRY'S – FROM – SCHOOL –"

"THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE! I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"

Before Ron could tell Vernon that he knew Harry was indeed there and he knew Vernon was just being the git Harry had described him as there was a slam, a click, and then the first droning noise came back.

"Hello? Hello?" Ron shouted several times for Harry or Vernon but there was no response.

He felt very deflated as he hung the fellytone back up on the box and faced his father.

"Well?" Arthur said.

"I didn't get to speak to Harry. His uncle said he wasn't there."

"He might have been out."

Ron wrung his hands together, the way Hermione did when they were about to break a rule. He knew very well that the Dursleys did not permit Harry to go out. No, he knew that he had put Harry into a lot of trouble and he didn't want to think of what would happen should he use the fellytone again. He would owl Harry and apologize and he would have to owl Hermione as well. He didn't want to admit to her the damage that he had done but he would have to lest she call too and get Harry in even more trouble.

"I'll just send Errol," Ron said glumly as he and Arthur set off to find a quiet spot to apparate back to The Burrow from. "Dad, I reckon I shouldn't have shouted.

"No," Arthur agreed. "I reckon you shouldn't've. But it was your first time using a fellytone and you did a good job."

Ron did not share his father's optimism. He hadn't gotten to speak to Harry. He hadn't done as promised. Nothing could make a broken promise better but Ron did perk up a little when he decided to blame, in entirety, muggles and their brainless fellytones.

Wizards, he decided, knew what they were doing when they decided to use owls.

**I always think of how the other side of the scene plays out when I'm reading it. I imagine Ron didn't feel very good after that call in **_**Prisoner of Azkaban. **_**As a side note, it's actually a lot of fun to try to describe ordinary things from the point of view of something whose never experienced them. Ron probably had a stroke when Hermione explained mobile phones to him.**

**~TLL~**


	5. The Second Task

There was one thing that Harry Potter would miss most in the world. It had, of course, to be true for everyone but Harry had never really thought about it. If he had been asked, he would have thought about his summer with the Dursleys and talked of Quidditch and magic and his friends. When Harry was at the Dursleys, though, he missed everything that was not the Dursleys. And when he had opened that egg, hearing the merpeople's song, Harry really hadn't thought much about what he would sorely miss. He hadn't a chance of getting it back if he couldn't breathe underwater.

Harry would always remember Dobby's voice.

_Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy … And take his Wheezy back from the merpeople … Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy – Wheezy who is giving Dobby his jumper!_

Somehow, Ron was under that lake, Harry was running late, and he would have done anything to get to him. Including eating whatever Dobby handed him with too little questions.

_Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his Wheezy!_

Harry couldn't let himself lose his Wheezy either.

_The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!_

Dobby had said that too but Harry hadn't really sat about to contemplate it right away. He had things to do. Ron to rescue.

Ron had looked quite dead under the water and Harry had tried not to stare at him. He didn't like the thought of Ron dead. Harry had lost his parents before he'd ever had the chance to know them and while that loss had shaped his life, Harry had to be honest with himself: It would be harder to lose Ron after knowing him than it had been to lose his parents. It was a relief when Ron had taken that breath above the water but Harry didn't have time to savour it. They had to get to the dock; they had to get out of the freezing water. They weren't done yet.

There are some things that fourteen-year-old boys don't say to one another. It was enough for Harry to watch Ron strut around the school, telling the story of the lake save, even though he had been unconscious. It was when Harry sat down to write Sirius a note about the whole thing that Dobby's words came back to him again.

_The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!_

Harry cared about a great many people in his life, now, after being alone with the Dursleys for so long. Hermione Granger, the whole of the Weasley family, his dormmates, Remus Lupin, his godfather, and the man that had brought him to all of them: Hagrid. A drop of ink dripped from Harry's quill onto the parchment and he put it aside. He wasn't about to put these words into the letter to Sirius. There were some things that fourteen-year-old boys don't say to anyone else either and that was that the Triwizard judges had not picked Ron out of a matter of convenience or because Krum's family was too far and so Harry had to rescue Ron, because Hermione was who Krum was closest to here. Ron had not been chosen because Dumbledore could hardly track down Sirius to make him participate – though Harry would miss Sirius very much. Ron being chosen was not a mistake.

Ron had been Harry's very first friend. It was often the case that first friends do not last and were only remembered with fond words later on in life but Harry just didn't think that it would ever be Ron. Harry just couldn't imagine that it would _ever _be Ron to him. They had fought once about the Triwizard Tournament and it had been the longest weeks of Harry's life, Ron not speaking to him. Harry honestly believed that he would crack and force Ron to speak him next to him, like he had bordered on doing this time. It wasn't just hatred of the amount of time Hermione spent in the library either. There was no substitute for Ron.

Ron, all awkward and red-haired, who was, Harry found out in later years, actually the driving force behind his very first Weasley sweater. Mrs. Weasley had said something when she was knitting a very tiny one in early spring – there was a grandchild on the way and she had so many sweaters to make now she had to start early, make them big, and hope for the best.

"I remember making the first one of yours, Harry," Mrs. Weasley would say. "Ron wrote to me, you know. I had been thinking about you. I was going to send you sweets anyway. _I want to make sure he gets presents, Mum. _He was so concerned. I wanted to make sure you had enough."

Ron wouldn't have arrived to The Burrow yet but Harry would only imagine how pink Ron would go around the ears as Mrs. Weasley tells the story. As it is, Ron would also be lucky that Ginny's out in the yard with Bill and won't the story either. Harry will hug Mrs. Weasley and decide not to bring it up to Ron, but be grateful all over again. The Weasleys had never had much to give – Ron had said over and over again when they were in school how he hated being poor – but Harry had always felt like there was much more. They had loved him when they'd had no reason to, just the word of their youngest son. The youngest son that Harry had continually gotten in trouble and put in peril. The youngest son that had cared for him despite all of that.

But, now, Harry was staring at the letter to Sirius, just thinking that he was lucky. It wasn't a word that most would apply to the life of Harry Potter, as his life was notoriously full of life and hardship and – unbeknownst to him, there was much worse to come – but Harry knew that he was lucky to have met Ron, lucky that Ron felt the same about him in return. He had his best mate, a mate that was such a rare find that Harry couldn't believe that he'd done it.

_The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!_

For all his life, that thing would be his Wheezy.

**It got a little rambling in the middle but that's the ramble I wanted to have! There's so many Harry and Ron moments in **_**Goblet Of Fire**_** – even when they're fighting.**

**~TLL~**


	6. Promise Me You'll Laugh

Harry didn't think his legs had ever shaken this much, not even when he had watched Lord Voldemort return. No, Harry decided, this was the hardest thing that he'd ever had to do and he had over eighty years of life behind him now. Harry knew what hard things were.

Harry looked down at the pages in front of him. _Write it down, _Hermione told him insistently, _or you'll forget it. _They forgot a lot of things these days – where wands had been left, whether or not they had sent that letter or just had been intending to. Just the little things.

Harry forced himself to focus. He looked at the crowd about him but found it too overwhelming. Then, Harry flipped the pages over. He didn't need notes.

"Ronald Weasley," Harry said, his voice echoing around the silent grounds, "will be remembered a hero and that's the way he should be remembered. He should be remembered for the bravery he's shown his entire life – from the journey to defeating Voldemort –" Even now, there were those who flinched at the name – "to his time as an auror to his work at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes where he dared to laugh, even in the darkest times. Ron should be remembered with glory. He was the youngest of seven brothers and nothing less than glory would satisfy him."

Harry glanced at Ginny, who was tightly holding onto Hermione's hand, and found that it was a mistake. She was the last of her siblings and Harry hurt just thinking of it.

"But that's not the only thing I want remembered about Ron. He wasn't just brave – he was compassionate and loyal. I met him at the age of eleven. We shared a train compartment on the way to Hogwarts and it only took one train ride for him to become my first friend – my very best mate. Ron never hesitated to share anything he had with me, though he never had much – not that I ever cared. I had not had family in a very long time and Ron was that to me almost immediately. There is a muggle saying: friends are the family you pick for yourself.

"Given the opportunity to live my life over and over again, I would pick Ron again and again."

Harry closed his eyes and he could revisit that first train ride as though it had just happened: Ron amongst his sea of red-haired family as Molly helped him through the barrier without question and Harry, already grateful to the Weasley family before even knowing who they were.

"Ron will be remembered as hero by his children for different reasons – for teaching them to ride a broom, though he talked too much of his time on the Gryffindor Quidditch team while doing it." He remembered Ron's face, red with the thrill of a win. _Weasley is our king_, Harry thought, and then he corrected himself. Was. _Weasley was our king. _"For never failing to try to help them with their homework, even though they knew it would be better to ask their mother. Whenever an owl arrived from Rose or Hugo, Ron would drop everything to answer. Such as a dark object that then tried to strangle me and a joke prototype that took his eyebrows off."

There were small smiles of remembrance on many faces when Harry dared look up again. And that was what he wanted. Harry couldn't even begin to pretend that the wizarding world hadn't suffered a great loss and Harry knew he would miss Ron until he too died. But Ron had been funny and bright, had lived a long and full life, and had hated funerals for the reason that they were so sad. _There's an afterlife – we know that, _Ron had said after Fred's funeral when he and Harry had escaped to Ron's room for a breath. _I mean, Fred wasn't even old and … It's not easy but I think it would be easier if I felt like I was allowed to laugh. I think Fred would have wanted us to laugh. Promise me, Harry, if I die first, you'll laugh._

Harry had promised.

"Ron was loyal. In our second year – and, mind, I'm only telling this story because Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley have passed – Ron followed me into the Forbidden Forest and straight into a den of Acromantulas. Ron's greatest fear in the world was spiders – up until that day, I think it was just normal sized spiders that he ever considered. And it was normal sized spiders that we followed in there. He was terrified but I knew that I had to go and Ron wasn't going to let me go alone. I must admit, I always knew that – that he would stand by my side – even when we knew it would be dangerous." Harry frowned. "Particularly when we knew it would be dangerous."

Mrs. Weasley had always surprised Harry. He'd wondered if he and Ron would be allowed to remain friends after he'd nearly gotten Ron killed playing life-sized wizard chess after knowing one another for less than a year. Instead, she had welcomed him with open arms.

"I think it's important to remember a person's flaws too. Ron was human and was loved for it. He was argumentative and temperamental. I don't think he and Hermione ever stopped bickering from the moment they met but I think it's why they started to like one another in the first place. Well, that and a troll."

Hermione let out a loud noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"Ron and I fought too. Once, in fourth year, I didn't know if we would make up – being young and stupid, as Hermione never hesitated to remind us. 'Course, she called us stupid when we made up too," Harry mused, and then he shook his head, feeling as though he was getting off topic, losing himself in memories. "But Ron could recognize when he was wrong."

Harry hung his head. His knees felt as though they were going to give out and his heart was thumping so oddly that he wondered if that was going to give out too. Harry had stopped being surprised by a great many things at a young age and now that he was much older, body parts giving out just became part of the expected. But Harry knew that some of it could be attributed to grief.

"Ronald Weasley was a good man and a good friend. I am proud that he passed on the best parts of himself to his children and that he allowed them to learn from his mistakes while supporting them through their own. Ron Weasley was courageous and loyal, with a big heart for those around him – a true Gryffindor and someone to be proud of. Ron Weasley also swore at every opportunity, had a wild temper, and a penchant for trouble. He loved his family fiercely and hated his enemies just as fiercely. He will be missed by anyone who has ever met him." Harry took a steadying breath and gripped the podium he was speaking at. "Ronald Bilius Weasley was a hero but before that – more than that – he was my best friend and my brother."

Harry stepped down from the podium and it was then that he looked upon the open casket for the first time. Ron was lying there peacefully – his face lined with age, what was left of his hair had long since gone white, and his eyes were closed. But that was not the Ron Harry saw as he looked down. In flashes, he saw Ron behind the wheel of a flying car, Ron standing next to him after the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron taking a celebratory great gulp of Firewhiskey after learning he was going to be a father. Harry always thought of Ron as redheaded and young, standing stocky and ready for whatever came next. Wherever Ron was now, Harry was sure that was how he looked – happy and surrounded by the Weasleys that had gone before him.

"I laughed, Ron," Harry said, as though Ron could still hear him. For all Harry knew, Ron might be able to, "like I promised. But I miss you, you know, and that's not easy."

And then Harry let himself cry.

**I just couldn't get this scenario out of my head. I'll probably write an opposite one sometime but maybe something funny next. We'll see. I just kind of write these as inspiration strikes.**

**Let me know what you think.**

**~TLL~**


	7. Moon And Stars

**Takes place during Deathly Hallows.**

_ "Ron and Tonks should be back by now. They didn't have a long journey: Auntie Muriel's not that far from here."_

The night sky had never seemed so oppressive. From the Burrow's yard, the stars were plentiful and glittering but it felt empty. _Harry _felt empty. How could he have allowed this? He should have fought harder, allowed no one to help him. George was injured and people had already died helping him – people like Sirius and Dumbledore. And his Hedwig, who had never had a choice. Why hadn't he sent her along to the Burrow weeks before? Harry had a choice and he had just wanted to keep her close because he loved her and that was the undoing of everyone close to him.

He hadn't even turned seventeen yet. He shouldn't have more regrets than years.

Harry scanned the sky again, barely aware of those standing with him doing the same thing.

Ron couldn't be one of those regrets. He just couldn't be. But there was a voice, deep inside of him whispering: _what if he's dead?_

There had been Death Eaters in the sky. Voldemort himself had been there. Ron and Tonks were late. They had been on a broom. That had had been the plan, draw Voldemort to those at home on brooms. There had been a target on Ron's head – on all of their heads – and Harry had just let it happen. Ron had done it because he cared about Harry but Harry had led him astray so many times. Chess and hospital wing stays and the brain room at the ministry. Like it had just happened, Ron thought of himself shoving a bezoar down Ron's throat in Slughorn's office.

How many times had he almost lost Ron?

Harry had never really thought about it, in part, because Ron had felt, in some way, eternal. Not like Dumbledore had felt eternal, in away that was ancient and unyielding and persistent, but more in the way Hedwig had. Ron was just _supposed _to be there. Harry just had to close his eyes to feel that first stroke of happiness, sitting on the Hogwarts Express and sharing his lunch with his first friend. Ron was _there_, the way the moon always was. Even when he couldn't see it, Harry knew where it was, and he had to believe that Ron was on his way home.

He stared up again but the sky had not changed.

_C'mon, Ron, c'mon_, Harry thought, as if he could summon him by willpower alone. Harry had already lost so much. He couldn't lose Ron too. What would it be like to look at Hermione with Ron dead? He couldn't fathom that they would ever be able to look one another in the eye again without thinking of what they should lost.

Harry blinked rapidly. Ron was not lost. Any moment now, he and Tonks were going to appear and they were going to be fine. Tonks had just gotten married and there was so much left that Ron had ever done. Harry thought of Hermione again and he tried not to brood but it was a losing battle. It was all he had done since finding out Ron had not arrived.

Then, Hermione screamed and the night was shattered. Harry stared at the newly visible broom expecting a horror until his brain worked out the words in Hermione's shout.

_It's them!_

Ron and Tonks collided with the ground, the broom thrown to the side as soon as their feet touched down. Ron and Tonks a little worse for wear but whole and alive.

Ron tripped toward Harry and Hermione.

"You're okay," Ron managed before Hermione caught him in a hug.

Harry met Ron's eyes and knew they were both flooded with the same relief: the other would live to see sunrise and that was what mattered.

**Shorter than usual but I just wanted to expand upon this scene a little more. I know if JKR had dwelled than the scene wouldn't have been as tense as it needed to be but I wanted to write out the emotion that was there between the lines in DH.**

**~TLL~**


	8. Weasley Makes Three

Harry woke to Ginny's shriek.

Heart pound, head racing, his hand was on his wand before he could think of a spell and then his wife's voice cut across the dark din of their bedroom, where they had been sleeping ever so peacefully just a moment before.

"Ronald! Get out of my bedroom!"

"Send Harry!"

Ron's voice covered Ginny's and Harry stumbled out of his bed to see Ron's head disappearing out of the fireplace. Ginny pulled her thin summer pyjamas closer around her, though Ron had already gone.

"Lucky he didn't wake the household," Ginny muttered.

Harry didn't relax his grip on his wand.

"Reckon something's the matter?" he muttered and then, in a flash of sleep deprived brilliance, they both gasped.

"The baby!"

Harry fell over himself to get to his glasses. He pulled his robe over his pyjamas, knowing it was half past three in the morning, his hair never sat right, and there would be no use in dressing up. Not if something was wrong anyway. Harry disapparated from his front lawn, over to Ron and Hermione's house. He pushed opened the door half-silently and then called out.

"Ron? Hermione? _Ron?"_

And there was Ron, half a sock on his left foot and no sock on his right. His pyjama top was askew but he was wearing a bright grin, the likes of which Harry had never seen on Ron. It was a curious thing, to see such a new expression on someone that he had known for so long.

"It happened, mate!" Ron seized Harry's arm, a flurry of long limbs. "The baby! Hermione's had the baby!"

"Really?!"

"It's such a small thing, Harry, I'm so scared I'm going to break her," Ron said. "It's a her! It's a her! And we wanted you to be the first to meet her!"

Ron pulled Harry into his and Hermione's shared bedroom – somewhere that Harry rarely frequented, and, really, had not been in since he had helped Ron move about furniture when they had moved in. Hermione lay on the great bed, looking more exhausted than Harry had ever seen her, even during long sleepless nights as they had hunted Horcruxes or, worse, during her great stress of exams.

"Harry," she said, "we wanted you to be the first to meet her."

"She came so quickly," Ron said. "We hardly had time to do anything."

"I didn't anticipate her being born here," Hermione said, with a slight grimace. Harry had no doubt that she had planned the birth of her first child down to the minute.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed. "Nothing ever goes to plan for us, Hermione. You should know this by now."

"I was bloody scared," Ron admitted.

"Cried like a baby," Hermione added. "Here, Harry, do you want to hold her?"

Harry took the small bundle of blankets and the baby inside squirmed. She was very new to the world, her face ruddy and pinched, even as she slept. Still, she had the Weasley hair – patched as it was on her domed head.

"She's beautiful."

"And terrifying."

"Ronald," Hermione scoffed but he just grinned.

"You're thinking the same thing."

"I am not," Hermione sniffed. "I need to call my mum. Ron, the phone."

He fetched it for her. "Come on, Harry, we'll go to the sitting room."

Harry carried the baby, the very feel of her bringing back the memories of his own son and the first time had felt his weight in his arms. He knew exactly how Ron was feeling.

"What did you name her?" Harry asked when they were properly seated.

Ron took her back into his arms, moving hesitantly. She squalled, annoyed.

"Rose," Ron cooed, in a voice that Harry knew was not for his benefit. He looked at Harry, suddenly sheepish. "You know, I probably should tell Mum too."

Harry chuckled and Rose cried again. Ron gently rocked back and forth.

"Hermione and I … we needed you to meet her first. That _was _part of the original plan, you know."

"You should have told Ginny. You're going to get a new one in the morning."

"Mum will tell her to sod off – not quite like that, of course, but a new baby!"

"If she's not giving you a new one as well, not calling her first."

Ron let out a small chuckle. "She'll get over it. Once you give her those big green eyes and the 'look at my goddaughter, Mrs. Weasley'. She'll met and get over it."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Look at my goddaughter."

Rose was peeking at him through suspicious eyes, ones that reminded him of Hermione's in first year, when she caught he and Ron sneaking around, and, though he was ashamed to admit it, making fun of her.

"When you brought James home," Ron said, "did you have this moment of panic, when you didn't quite know what to do with him?"

Harry nodded. "Every moment. Between Ginny and I, we took turns huffing into paper bags."

"Paper bags?"

"It's a muggle trick, for panic," Harry explained. "I'm sure your mum would tell you the same thing –"

"I probably listen to you more than mum," Ron admitted.

Harry offered Rose his pinkie and she seized it with a baby's strength, still staring off into the distance, her eyelids half-lowered. As Harry had with James, he stared at her and wondered who she would be: the parts of Ron that she would inherit, the parts of Hermione, the parts of herself that she conjured out of thin air.

"And," Harry said, returning his gaze to Ron, "it's not as though we have ever known what _we're _doing."

"No," Ron agreed. "Hermione has read every muggle and wizard book on parenting. She's talking to Mum and her mum and my head spins with all of the things that she knows about babies and I don't but … Rose was suddenly here and I could tell, the moment Hermione was holding her and I was standing there, thinking '_Hermione just had a baby in our bed!' _and I realized by the look on her face that she didn't know any more than I did. Practice versus theory, as she said in her seventh year. Eighth. I don't know. I never know. Hermione doesn't know, for once, and I think that I take more comfort in that than I should, but, what if we do it wrong? What if I mess up this baby, Harry? I had a good dad and Hermione had a good mum but that doesn't mean that we know what we're doing!"

"I had a good mum until I was one," Harry said, "and then I had the Dursleys. I'm a good person, wouldn't you say?"

"_Saint Potter,_" Ron drawled in his best Draco Malfoy impression.

"You will do great," Harry said. "She'll be amazing. And I won't be a Dursley."

"Well, hopefully, we won't die."

"I've been trying to kill you since we were eleven. I'd say you're cursed to a long life."

"Good," Ron said. "I can't imagine leaving her, ever. Unless I was your mum, mate, and I'd stare down You-Know-Who day after day if it meant Rose could grow up."

"That's how parents are supposed to feel."

Ron touched Rose's soft red hair.

"And, I don't think she'd let you screw her up," Harry added.

Rose Weasley stayed staring, her eyes casting about the room, though Harry knew that she couldn't see too much yet. There was something in her gaze, the mix of Hermione's suspicion and Ron's defiance, that made Harry know that she would be okay. No matter what life threw at her, and he prayed to Merlin that it was nothing like the things that he and Ron and Hermione had faced, he knew that she would be okay. And he would be the good godfather, just as he was to Teddy Lupin, but Rose would not need him as a father. She had a mother and father who were going to be around for as long as Harry had anything to say about it, and a pair of good ones.

"I hope not."

"Ronald!" Hermione yelled. "Ron! Is this what separation anxiety feels like?"

Harry laughed as Ron stood.

"Hermione," he called, "you should ask Ginny about her away game with the Harpies after having James."

"No!" Hermione said defiantly as he, Ron, and Rose made their way down the hall toward her. "I'm fine."

"Bloody hell," Ron said to Rose and Harry, "what am I in for?"

But Harry had a feeling Ron had known what he was in for since they had defeated that troll. It was Rose that didn't know that chaos of large families and war healing and magic that had been born into. And Harry didn't feel the least bit sorry because she would grow up beloved and her eyes were still staring at him and he knew that she would fight back against every obstacle in her way, whether that was McGonagall's transfiguration homework, Hermione's rules, or her father denying a date.

Rose Weasley was going to grow up just fine.

**I always find it harder to write about the next gen but I don't what is it about them. Rose is a newborn and she doesn't have much of a personality yet so it shouldn't have been that hard but … I hope you like it anyway.**

**~TLL~**


	9. Ronald's Room

Ron Weasley's temper was, surprisingly, not that well known amongst his family. It was easy, he knew, to get lost amongst his sea of brothers – the prefects, the dragon tamers, the trouble makers – and his one sister, the one his mother had had all of those boys _for_, for him to end up getting lost in the crowd. Normally, he didn't mind. Normally, it was okay just to know that he was loved – and that was one thing that was never in doubt for Ron, that he was loved.

Yet, it almost came out in full force the night that he, Fred, and George flew a flying car to go and rescue Harry from the Dursleys.

Harry had a big room.

Ron noticed that, almost before he noticed the bars on the window. Harry's room could have fit his bedroom and Fred and Georgie's room _and_, probably, half of Ginny's room into it and still have had room for Hedwig.

It was not the thing that he should notice, Ron knew, when there were bars on his best friend's window and his brothers had to break in and out of several doors in order to get to Harry and his school things. It was those things that made Ron's blood boil: his ears turned red and so did the tops of his cheeks when he noticed the dog door in Harry's door. Harry was his _best _friend and to treat him like a … a … unloved pet! Ron could hardly stand it. He wouldn't have treated Scabbers that way! He wouldn't have even treated _Percy _that way, let alone Harry. Ron kept up a normal conversation but he had his fists balled into the pockets of his pants the whole drive back to the Burrow. The way that the Dursleys had tried to hang onto him also made Ron angry. What did the Dursleys need to hang off him for when they clearly didn't like him!?

There was absolutely no reason to like Harry Potter unless you were a bloody little git like Draco Malfoy and Ron would maintain that to his dying breath. Otherwise, why would he get into a flying car with Fred and George knowing that he was running a high risk of them conjuring a spider just for the laugh of it?

(All right, the flying car part was fun. Ron would admit that but it was more fun when they had Harry with them and Ron was not worried about what they found when they got to Privet Drive.)

Except, for all of that, when the Ford Anglia hit the ground in front of the Burrow, all Ron was worried about was what Harry would think. The Weasleys lived in the exact opposite of a mansion. It was, if Ron was thinking objectively, several shacks stacked on top of one another. It wasn't something that Ron had ever thought too much about until after he had gone to Hogwarts and had seen just what other people had. If he was a better person, he would not care, but, sometimes, Ron was twelve and not a better person.

He hoped Harry didn't hate it here. He didn't just want Harry to think that he liked The Burrow better than he liked it at the Dursleys. This was Ron's home and Harry was always welcome here and he wanted Harry to like it here. No. That wasn't true either. Ron wanted Harry to love it here, the way that Ron loved it here when he wasn't lost amongst his jealousy of his peers. He wanted Harry to love the fact that, even though it was hard work to degnome the garden, it was a lot of fun spending the hour with his brothers hunting it down. He wanted to love his mother, who loved ferociously and could boss them around just as badly, but it all evened out when they were sitting down to dinner together. He wanted Harry to even love haphazard stairs which had no rhyme or reason except to get the children from the kitchen to their bedrooms and which held the title of being only just less complicated than the Hogwarts staircases, which really wasn't saying much.

Ron wanted to ask Harry what he thought as soon as the wheels hit the ground but – wasn't it just their luck – Molly Weasley had known that they were gone. All Ron wanted to do was whine _Mum _from beginning to end but Molly Weasley was not a woman who was interrupted and Ron wasn't the type of person to interrupt her. So, he just watched Harry. He watched Harry through food and degnorming and Mum's lectures and Ginny and his brothers and the whole time all that he could do was watch Harry's face. His responses to Mrs. Weasley and the brothers and to trying degnoming.

Harry was excited about the garden gnomes. That shouldn't surprise Ron and it didn't, really. For all they mocked Hermione and her zeal for classes, Harry was _exactly _that way when it came to wizarding things. Ron would never forget the way that he bought out the lunch trolley on their Hogwarts express ride the year before. The way Harry looked at a chocolate frog was probably the way that he had looked at the muggle fellytone. Harry seemed to delight in degnoming and breakfast and the fact that Mrs. Weasley seemed not to stop lecturing the two of them and the fact that there were brothers everywhere.

Finally, they made their escape and Ron led Harry all the way to the top floor of the Burrow. Ron wondered every step of the way what Harry was thinking. Was he judging the amount of doors and the way that their name signs hung off each of them? He wanted to tell Harry about how Mr. Weasley had not made the signs with magic but had used muggle techniques. He had been raiding a muggle's carpentry shop that had an enchanted saw at the time that Mrs. Weasley was pregnant with Bill and he had snuck back every time to create signs. But, just in case Harry had not noticed the little signs, Ron did not want to call attention to it.

Ron was thinking about the Dursleys house on Privet Drive. It was a fairly sized house, nice and normal with a trimmed lawn and flowers in the beds. There were no chickens clucking about, no tower of boots by the front door.

Ron opened the door to his bedroom and let Harry inside, thinking about what a mess it was and how small it was and how orange it was and just how many stairs they had needed to take to get to his room.

"It's a bit small," Ron blurted, needing to say something, hoping that it would make him feel less awkward. "Not like that room you had with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on the pipes and groaning …"

It was not the best room in the house and it was not a quiet room – not that any rooms were quiet, since it was so easy to hear whatever Fred and George were constantly doing in their room that caused the foundation to shake and Mrs. Weasley to yell about underaged experiments. And Ron's Mum's voice carried throughout the stairwell, echoing about until Percy emerged with a quill in one hand a book in the other to prove just how busy he was in his bedroom, asking everyone could they _please _keep it down for once since he had things to do. Then, the twins would start teasing Percy and Ginny would run from her room to his to fetch him so that they could all join in on making as much noise as possible on the landing outside of Percy's room until the ghoul started rattling and Mrs. Weasley came out from the kitchen again, brandishing her wand and found all of them chores to do and then Percy would complain that _he, _the Flawless and Spectacular Percy Ignatius Weasley, had done absolutely nothing and he didn't deserve to be punished like his lawless brothers and sister because he had more important things to be doing. Mrs. Weasley, of course, never bought it.

But Ron didn't know how to put all of that into words to Harry – that even though the house was crooked and there was chaos and Percy – it was a good house, a fun house, and even though the feasts at Hogwarts couldn't be rivalled, Ron definitely missed his mother's cooking while he was at school.

Even without knowing all of that, Harry grinned and said, "This is the best house I've ever been in."

And Ron couldn't wait for them to have the rest of the summer here.

**I hope you like it! I absolutely love the Weasleys and their family dynamic.**

**~TLL~**


	10. Happy Marriage, Potter-Weasley!

**I saw this thing on tumblr a while back (although whenever I try to search for it, I can't find the original post) that said something like "a year ago, I married my best friend. My girlfriend's still mad about it but we still think it's funny" So, this is based off the beginning of that. There's a chance that this plot line will pop back up in a later chapter. I know the one shots are usually unconnected but as long as it's about Harry's and Ron's relationship, in this series it will go.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**~TLL~**

"No, no, _Ron_," Harry gasped, half-falling over in stitches, "stop! We'll wake your mum –"

"We are adults, mate, what's mum going to tell us?"

"To keep it down!" Harry implored, forever the good boy at heart. "I'm … Oh, Merlin, Ron, I'm hiccupping!"

Ron hefted the bottle that they had delved into. "Have some more Firewhiskey, it'll help."

Harry stared at him blearily and then offered the glass. "I do believe that you were the reason for the trouble all of those years ago. You got me into bad spots, not the other way around."

"Bloody liar," Ron accused.

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Prove it."

"Hermione will back me up."

"She's your _girlfriend_," Harry said.

"Which means she wants to disagree with me," Ron said, gesturing so dramatically that some of the whiskey slopped onto the back of his hand and onto the floor. "Mum's going to make me clean that in the morning."

"We're wizards," Harry stated, pulling out his wand. The floor was moving under his feet but he pointed confidently at the floor, intending to banish the spot. Instead, it was he and Ron that were whipped away.

"See," Ron said, "it's always your fault!"

They were on a street – definitely a wizarding street, although it was semi-deserted at a little after midnight. Harry could hear sounds coming from one of the store-fronts and he clambered to his feet. He was still holding the glass of Firewhiskey that Ron had poured for him. It magically hadn't spilt and he drank some more of it. He tried to stand steady as Ron grabbed the back of his jumper to haul himself up. With satisfaction, he noticed that Ron was also still holding the bottle.

"Should we go and see what's happening?" Harry asked, pointing toward the sound of the revelry.

"Wouldn't be us if we didn't," Ron declared.

They wormed their way in, finding themselves in a small room, filled with couples.

"Oh, another one!" said the plump witch who was being followed by a pen and a book.

Harry eyed it warily, trying not to think of Rita Skeeter but unable to picture anything else.

"We can pencil you in, dearies," she said, "just sign your names here. You're both of age, aren't you?"

"We're nineteen," Ron declared. "It's my birthday."

"So young! Happy birthday!" she said delightfully.

Harry glanced at Ron and then signed his name in the book.

"We'll be with you in just a few minutes," the witch promised. "There's just three other couples ahead of you."

"Mate," Ron said, leaning down into Harry's ear, "did she just call us a _couple_?"

"There's two of us. Two's a couple, right?" Harry said.

Ron nodded. "Yes. Makes sense. Sounds like Hermione logic."

"To Hermione logic!"

Harry clinked his glass against Ron's bottle and they staggered into a couple of chairs. There was a dark-haired wizard sitting next to a pretty Japanese witch.

"Excuse me," Harry said.

The wizard's eyes widened. "You're Harry Potter."

"Are you blind?" Ron demanded. "_I'm _Harry Potter."

The wizard blinked.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, taking advantage of the confusion.

"We're … We're getting married," the wizard said. "This is a chapel for eloping couples. Aren't … Aren't you here to get married?"

Harry glanced at Ron who was red-faced and already laughing.

"Ron, mate, want marry me?"

"Get down on one knee! I won't settle for anything less!"

With a firm grip on his drink, Harry dropped to one knee.

"Ron, I have nothing to offer you but my wealth of riches, my unearned fame, and an incomplete Hogwarts education! Marry me, Ron!"

Ron was sliding out of his chair, laughing the whole way down.

"I'll marry you, Harry!"

And they drank to it.

(-.-)

"You are so lucky I love you more than Hermione loves Ron."

Harry started awake as Ginny slammed a glass of water on the bedside table next to him. He blinked, his eyes feeling crusted, a headache setting in.

"Thanks, Gin. What's … What's Hermione doing to Ron?"

"Studying. Out loud."

"Hermione's not in school," Harry said confusedly, dragging himself upward and reaching for the water.

"Yeah, I know. Mum's got breakfast, when you want to come down."

Harry chugged the water Ginny had left and then stumbled out of Percy's room, which he'd been given use of for Ron's birthday weekend. He had barely put a foot on the stairs when he heard a _"Psst_" from above him. Harry looked up the tall staircase where Ron was desperately gesturing at him. They met in front of Ginny's door, which Ron pushed open. She wasn't in there and so he pulled Harry in, casting a silencing charm on the room.

"Harry, how did we get home last night?"

"We …" Harry had almost asked if they had even left the house last night. He had a very clearly memory of drinking with Ron on downstairs couch. Where else would they have gone? Except, then he remembered a little reception area and … "Did I propose to you last night?"

"What?"

"Ron …" Harry said, feeling the blood leave his face. "Is that a ring on your finger?"

"Don't be – Is that a ring on your finger?"

They stared at each other in horror, every freckle on Ron's milk white face standing out even more than they usually did.

"Hermione's going to kill me. Ginny's going to kill me. Mum's going to kill me. George … What's George going to say?!"

"George is going to think that this is the funniest thing that could have possibly happened to us," Harry said, "because it is."

"What?"

"We got married last night! It was an accident. We were drunk. They'll see the humour."

"_Hermione_?"

"Ginny's going to kick your arse."

"Yeah, you laugh. Wait until I tell them it was your idea," Ron said.

"_My _idea?"

"You proposed to me!"

"You said yes!"

"You suggested we go see what was going on in there!"

"You agreed!"

"That's a weak argument and Hermione and I know it," Harry said.

"Ron! Are you in Ginny's room?"

"She's been summoned," Ron gasped at Hermione's voice. He waved away the silencing charm, "Meet you at breakfast, Hermione!"

They listened to the sound of her steps fading away.

"I am so lucky that Percy was too busy to be here for the whole weekend," Ron grumbled as he wrenched Ginny's door open. "Can you imagine what he'd say to me?"

"Maybe we should send a Patronus over," Harry said brightly. "He might like to be here."

Ron groaned.

"Lighten up. It can be undone. Probably wasn't even legal," Harry said. "Hermione will sort it all out."

"Yeah, you're right," Ron said. "It was just a laugh. We couldn't have really gotten married, right?"

"Right," Harry said. "Come on, let's go eat something before this headache gets worse."

They crowded around the table, finding the spots that they always found themselves in around the Weasley table.

"Ron, Harry," Ginny asked, "where did you go last night?"

"Go?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "It was late when I went to bed, boys, where could you have gone?"

"Well, we didn't take a flying car so really does it matter," Ron said.

Mr. Weasley cut his sausages up slowly and deliberately, not looking up until he was sure that Mrs. Weasley was no longer watching him.

"Apparation under the influence can be serious, Ron," Hermione said. "You know what it's like to be splinched!"

"We didn't Apparate," Harry said quickly. "At least, we don't think we did. We were just trying to clean the floors."

"The floor?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "What happened to the floor?"

"Just a little spill, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quickly. "We cleaned it up."

"Did we?" Ron asked out of the side of his mouth.

Harry wasn't sure anymore, even though he'd been confident that he was telling the truth when he'd said it. If there was one person that he never wanted to lie to, it was Mrs. Weasley. "We'll make sure that we did it properly after breakfast."

"A spill doesn't explain where you went," Hermione said, helping herself to toast. "You two are hardly take a stroll types."

"We took plenty of strolls at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"Under the cover of darkness too. This isn't a new thing for us."

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at her son. "We'll talk about your school days later."

"It's a really funny story," Ron said.

"We got married!" Harry said brightly, grabbing Ron's hand and holding it up so that the table could see the cheap gold wedding bands.

"You _what_!?" Hermione screeched but, then, just as Harry knew she would, Ginny started laughing.

Tears streamed down her face, her cheeks going bright red.

"Oh, Merlin! George!" Ginny shouted. "GEORGE!"

"Breakfast is on the table, Mum! I _know_, I'm _coming_ for ickle Ronniekin's birthday!"

"George, it's Ginny and Ron got married last night!"

A crack filled the kitchen as George apparated into the room.

"Married? Hermione, I didn't take you as the eloping type!"

"Not to Hermione," Harry said, making a big show of putting his around Ron's shoulders.

"We just couldn't deny it anymore," Ron said, leaning into Harry's embrace. "He's more than my best mate –"

Mr. Weasley's jaw was hanging open, a piece of toast dangling from his fingertips.

"If you kiss him," Hermione said, "I'm going to be sick."

"If you kiss him, I will give you one hundred galleons if you kiss him," George said.

"We are joking here, aren't we?"

Hermione rested hr head in her hands. "Mrs. Weasley, I don't think they are."

"Ron's not that smart," George was quick to say.

"It was a little hole in the wall marriage place," Ron said. "We didn't mean to we were just –"

"Totally sozzled!" George said. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to this family."

"George!" Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"It's probably not legal," Hermione said, regaining her head and defaulting to what she knew best. "Ron, Harry, did you come home with any paperwork? Do you remember signing anything?"

"No, I've lost everything after Harry proposing."

"Was it romantic?" Ginny asked, and though she still seemed to be laughing about it, there was an edge to her voice that said if Harry had made a romantic proposal to Ron, then his eventual one to her had to be better.

"No. I didn't have a ring," Harry said, not taking his eyes from Ginny.

"Very unromantic," Ron agreed. "You've got to have a ring otherwise it's not really a proper proposal, right?"

"I proposed with Firewhiskey."

"We had a cheers afterward," Ron said, motioning with his hands. "It was just … male bonding."

Hermione flushed. "Is that what you're going to call your real wedding, Ronald? Bonding? Old pals, chumming around?"

She slammed her hands on the table and then stormed away.

Mrs. Weasley wearily looked at Harry and Ron. "We'll talk about this later and, hopefully, there's nothing binding about this." She walked off and George dropped down at the table.

"Best thing that's ever happened to this family," he reiterated and then he looked thoughtful as he bit into his toast. "Oh, but you're divorce."

Ginny shrieked. "Is this why you married him, Ron? To get half the money in the divorce?"

Ron looked smug. "Gonna take you for everything you've got, Harry."

"I have … a golden snitch and that's my final offer."

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

Mr. Weasley finally blinked, returning to his toast as if nothing had happened.

Ron leant into Harry's ear. "Hermione hasn't screamed yet, I suppose that means that there is no real paperwork."

"Good sign –"

There was a scream from upstairs that could only have come from Hermione.

Harry shook his head and rephrased. "Good signs don't happen to us." He hefted his mug. "Happy marriage to us, Ron."

Ears pink, Ron clinked his mug against Harry's. "Happy marriage to us, Harry."

George, Ginny, and even Mr. Weasley decided to join in on the cheers and the murmured celebration and then they drank.

**Also, this piece had me thinking a lot about Wizard Vegas. Send in some headcanons!**

**~TLL~**


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